


I Ain't Gonna Lose You

by AngelOfBooze



Category: In The Flesh
Genre: Autistic Simon Monroe, Autistic!Simon Monroe, Cancer, Drug Use, Gen, death of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:31:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfBooze/pseuds/AngelOfBooze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon's life was dull until he met Thelma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Ain't Gonna Lose You

**Author's Note:**

> Oh goodness. I don't know if I like this fic or not?? I feel like I have changed tenses a lot. I also feel like it makes very little sense. I would appreciate constructive criticism if you'd be willing to give me some? I don’t know a lot about Leukaemia so I apologise if I have anything wrong. Please point out any mistakes you find because I do not want to offend anyone.

Middle school was almost like hell for Simon. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, let his parents see the pain it was causing him. His face was always carefully stoic every time someone so much a mentioned something vaguely relating to school. Simon didn’t see any sort of salvation, other than waiting life out or taking it away. He couldn’t bare the latter. Not now anyway. Simon, however, never imagined his salvation would come in the form of a willowy girl by the name of Thelma Chandra. Thelma had come to his school to be closer to the hospital that she so often frequented. Thelma had come to his school and changed his life.

Thelma was thin and tall, she was easily a few inches taller than Simon, her chin could rest atop his mop of dark hair. Thelma had dark skin and a long and pointed nose that Simon was in awe of. Her teeth were crooked, her cheeks hollow and grey, but to Simon, she was the most beautiful woman to have set foot on the earth. When Simon looked at her, he thought he knew what the other boys were talking about when they looked through those magazines they had their older brothers buy. Simon was in silent awe of Thelma, nothing less and nothing more.

Thelma made Simon feel normal. Even though the two of them would sit in a secluded spot in the playground and would have food and rubbish frequently thrown at them. Even though Thelma had to go to the hospital a lot because she was always sick with a fever. She always had a few bruises on her arms and legs, just from bumping into things. Even though her lush, thick hair was dulling and thinning, Simon felt normal. To Simon, Thelma looked happy enough too. Simon would gush run on sentences to her.

He would talk about poetry, the latest car model and the race car drivers he so admired. His eyes would flick along Thelma’s hollow face and look into Thelma’s sunken eyes when she told him of the newest movie she had seen, her hands moving animatedly to illustrate her point. Simon absorbed Thelma’s words, hanging onto them like they would save his life. In a way, Simon was right. He felt like his life was colourful and had meaning when he talked to Thelma, the white fog that had enveloped his days was banished to the edges of his mind.

Simon was self-conscious around Thelma about the fact that he hummed and twirled his fingers and hands; No matter how many times Thelma had told him it was okay, Simon thought she would eventually leave him. In a way, Simon was right.

Simon went over to Thelma’s house every Friday afternoon. He would greet Thelma’s mother before trailing behind his friend into her bedroom. He would sit on the tiled floor of her bedroom, looking through the magazines she had. He would look at the striking colours of eye shadow they had, and ask Thelma is she wanted to learn how to paint her eyelids like in the magazines. Thelma would always shake her head and mumble about how her skin was too dark. When he asked if she would like to do her hair like in the magazines she would run her hands through it and say it was too thin. When he asked if he would like to paint her nails like in the magazines she would drop her eyes down and say they were too short. Simon would pat her knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture and climb up onto the bed beside Thelma.

He would try his best to do Thelma’s hair like in the magazines, using just bobby pins and thin hairbands. Simon would always leave Thelma smiling on her bed with her nails painted and her hair done up. Simon always left at six pm; He had to be home in time for dinner. He would wave to Thelma over his shoulder as he exited her bedroom, he knew that sometimes she didn’t like moving much and so he would never ask her to accompany him to the front door.

Simon was no longer unhappy to talk about school, always finding a way to bring up Thelma with is parents. He would become animated and give detailed recounts of what Thelma had talked about that day. Simon would talk about what he and Thelma had done, it was usually reading as Thelma didn’t want to go out much. Thelma couldn’t go out much. Thelma got tired easily or her hips hurt too much to play in the street. Thelma slowly got more tired as the school year progressed.

Simon saw less and less of Thelma at school, and no longer went to her house on Friday afternoons. Instead he walked to the hospital to talk with Thelma about the latest movies and car models. Thelma would smile and laugh along with what Simon said. She would sometimes fall asleep while he was recounting his day to her. Simon didn’t mind. Simon would always leave the hospital with a kiss on Thelma’s forehead. Simon would come by the hospital for half an hour every day. “I’m not gonna lose you, am I?” Simon asked one afternoon. Thelma shook her head and gripped Simon’s hand tightly. In a way, she was right.

Thelma slipped out of Simon’s life quietly one Friday afternoon an hour after he left had left her hospital room. Simon found out the net day when he tried to go into her room and found it was occupied by another patient. Simon had asked a nurse where she was. The nurse shook her head before carrying on with her duties. Simon pushed his hands though his hair. Simon had just spoken to Thelma, maybe she had gone home.

Simon ran to Thelma’s house in record time. He face was stoic and he didn’t bother with greeting the woman who opened the door to Thelma’s house. She wasn’t Thelma’s mother, although she looked like her. He struggled past the strange woman until he reached Thelma’s room, where he saw Thelma’s mother had her face pressed into one of the pillows. Simon followed her lead and shoved his face into a pillow that still smelled like his friend. Thelma couldn’t be gone. Simon had talked to her just yesterday. They had talked about their math homework. They had talked about the new films that had come out. Thelma wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be.

It took weeks for it to finally sink in that Thelma was gone. Simon couldn’t believe it. Simon had his chance to say goodbye at Thelma’s funeral. Simon had never said goodbye. Simon had promised he would live once for him and once again for Thelma. Simon would live for them both. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, and so he decided what to do for Thelma. He would go where Thelma had wanted to go. Simon would do what Thelma had wanted to do.

Thelma was right, Simon never lost her, she never left his side. Not really. Her mother had let him take home the bottle of dark green nail polish Thelma had favoured. Simon thought of Thelma when he was doing his math homework, she would have known how to explain it to him. Simon thought of Thelma when he saw a new movie had come out at the theatres that he knew she would have liked. Simon thought of the smart retorts Thelma would have thrown back at the people who threw their food. Simon knew she would chastity him if she ever found out about the drugs he was getting from a few of the boys in the bathroom.

Simon thought of Thelma when he dropped out of school to get away from his life. Simon thought about Thelma when he first got to the shores of America. He knew Thelma would like it there. Simon knew Thelma would crack a joke about the statue of Liberty. After America, Simon gradually stopped thinking about Thelma. He hadn’t thought of Thelma since he arrived back in Ireland. Simon hadn’t thought of Thelma for at least five years. Simon hadn’t thought of Thelma until he was laying on the ground, pain shooting up and down his arm. Simon hadn’t thought of Thelma before she came to greet him in his drug addled haze. Thelma had never left Simon, not really. Simon had promised he would live two lives for his friend. In a way, he was right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for reading through this! If you find any mistakes please feel free to point them out!  
> Also, in case you were wondering what type of relation ship I was going for between these two, it was just good friends. I sort of made Simon have a 'squish' on Thelma. A squish is a friend-crush/ non romantic crush.  
> You can find me on tumblr at angelofbooze.


End file.
